The scenery above and beyond is surrounded by think layered mists, layer by layer;
I am afraid to see the sun refuses to shine today, even we always see the sunset in dawns;
I am not afraid to die, if it has to die, just die and go like that, however,
the uncertainty and endless painful, somehow spreading its tears and breaking the faith among us.

So ungrateful of my thoughts, sighing to myself why I were born from the start if we all are going to die,
through whole-time pains and sufferings, temporary moments of joy and happiness only.
So uneasy for me to make myself believe the purpose of life, as if they define God, Heaven and hell,
witness compassion and caring could be so wrong, surrounded by blood, lust, greed and hatred.

I want to be silent, less care, less worry-will it make me a worse person?
I want to take control and lead my destiny-is it possible if being chained by ignorance and laziness?
In the end I just want to become a wind–but even this thought is stuck in a humid box, unclean and unwanted.
Human beings, living in this world, with their vary skills on the stage, to whom they shown it, how deep ego was fed up?